Dawn of a New Day
by DevouringSickness
Summary: An elaboration of my story, Standing on Top of the World. This is the story of the lives of 5 people: Ann, Jack, Carl, Preston, and Jimmy, after the death of the King of Skull Island.
1. The King

**Chapter 1 - Kong**

Reporters swarmed liked vultures, surrounding Kong. Flashes and clicks echoed through the busy streets, as well as the excited murmurs of a whole city block. Everyone was intent on seeing this beast, their own morbid curiosity getting the best of them. A few officers were posing in front of the fallen ape, pretending to have taken part in bringing him down. They smiled, their fat bellies swelling with glee. That's all they did...they stood there and looked pretty for the press. Never mind the beautiful life lost that day. No one cared. No one stood there because they were sad, but because they wanted to make sure "it" was dead.

One reporter looked up to the sky, scanning the Empire State Building with his gray eyes, hat brimming the sun away from his face.

"Why'd he do that? Go all the way up there and get himself cornered? The ape must've known what was coming!"

Another reporter, holding on tightly to his camera and smoking a cigarette, immediately answered.

"He's just a dumb animal. Doesn't know nothing. What's it matter anyway? The airplanes got 'em."

They all stared dumbfounded, but a portly man began breaking through the masses. His eyes filled with dread and final realization. He looked down and commented back.

"It wasn't the airplanes...it was beauty killed the beast..."

Carl Denham couldn't help but be upset. He lost everything; his promised life, his friends' trust, his only love in the world...film. He turned quickly, stampeding through the crowd once more. Pulling his hat down, he disappeared behind the bundle of bodies.

Moments after Carl faded into the streets of New York, the reunited couple emerged from the entrance of the colossal hotel. Ann and Jack went unnoticed, all the focus being on her fallen companion. She rested her body against Jack's and tried to keep herself from fainting. The whole night flooded into her mind, finally taking it's toll on her.

_"Why...Kong..."_

She parted the crowd weakly, Jack whispering 'excuse us' and 'make way, please' as they came through. Ann fell upon her friend's arm, clinging onto it just as desperately as she had only a while earlier. Jack quickly fell to her aid, grasping her arms and lifting her slightly. He knew he had to get her away, and she knew she had to leave as well. The pain was too intense; the loss was too great. How could she stand next to something that only just held her? Something that was no longer breathing or beating his chest or fighting for her life and approval? What could she do but look? Look on in awe just as everyone else had.

"I'm...so sorry."

Jack picked her up into his arms and carried her away. That was all she could say. There was nothing else to say; there weren't any words. There never would be enough to say and no matter what she said could ever heal her anguish. Jack was there. He was her knight-in-shining-armor. But that wouldn't change anything. It's too far from him to save that piece of her which left with the King of Skull Island.

-------------------

"Please. It's more important than anything I've ever asked anyone in my life! I need you to do this." said Jack, bellowing angrily at the authority.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Driscoll..."

"It's Jack. You know me, Frank."

Frank was the guard at the Museum of Natural History. He and Jack used to be friends, but after Jack became successful, their friendship slowly drifted apart.

"...Jack. I don't have the power to do that. There's just no way I can get the museum to do this for you, never mind how much it costs..."

"How much?"

"Too much."

"How. Much."

"C'mon, I don't know the exact figures! I just know it'll be a pretty penny for you to put that damn ape's bones in a museum."

"Jesus Christ! I can't rely on you for anything, can I?"

"I guess not, Driscoll. I mean, really, did you even think about the government? They're either still searching for clues, or burying that thing in the ground, or burning it, probably."

"You know that's not true, he's too valuable to just bu..."

"That last part was a joke. I guess I'm not very good at being subtle...The point is, you won't get it. No matter what you offer."

"How do you know? Look...I'm asking you a favor, one which you still owe me. Please. Help me."

"I can't..."

Jack broke away from him, turning and exiting the revolving doors with a blank and certain emotion displayed on his face. He breathed out, the air catching it and blowing it into the frozen day.

_'This can't be it...'_ he thought, feeling defeated. _'He was right; I'll never have the money."_

He walked away, slumping over and holding his head down in shame. He failed at what he needed to do.

**------**

Back inside the museum, a man in a brown suit and a snap-brim fedora turned to watch Jack leave. He casually played with his beard after overhearing their slightly heated conversation. He nodded to himself, fighting the urge go after him. He knew what he had to do.

**------**

**That Night**

Ann sat in a chair, reading one of her lover's plays once again, "Isolation". The fire in the brick fireplace lighted her gorgeous features, basking her in orange glory. She jumped up as Jack came through the door. Ann had begun to stay with Jack, leaving behind her old residence in hopes of finding a better life. She always reminded herself that despite the sadness, she had found it.

Jack held up an envelope, which was thin with little in it. He handed it to Ann, setting down his coat and his hat. Without question, she looked down at the words which covered the front. It read, "Ms. Darrow". Not Ann, but Ms. Darrow.

"There's no address or name or anything...I found it lying in front of the door."

"Well..."

She surveyed the envelope, though not specifically look for anything.

"It must be important."

She pulled the flap out from it's tucked position. She reached in and pulled out a small, rectanglular piece of paper. A check. Her eyes widened with amazement.

"Jack!" she said nearly screaming, "It's a check!"

"What?"

He stared at it disbelievingly, just as taken back as Ann had been.

"Who would have done this...?"

She pulled out the remaining folded up piece of paper. She pulled back each fold. It was a letter. It was brief, but important:

_"Dear Ms. Darrow,_

_Please, use this money to save Kong. I know it means a great deal that he is assured to be remembered. I know now what I've done, and none of this is worth it. Accept the money as only a fraction of what I wish I could pay you. A tragedy such as this deserves nothing less._

_And Jack, I'm sorry, buddy. You were a true friend, and I threw it away. I'm sorry._

_Sincerely,_

_Carl Denham."_

A tear fell from Ann's cheek and splashed onto the paper. It was not poetry, but it was perfect to her. And that's all that mattered.

"He has a heart afterall..." she breathed out in a whisper.

"I guess so."

Jack found himself smiling, and about Carl, no less.

------

After Jack presented the check to the government, they promised him that he would be put in his rightful place after they finished with him. And they did, 4 months later than expected, but they kept their promise. The bones were set in a display case, not put back together. The skull was the most prominent feature of the evolutionary gold-mine. Ann kissed Jack's cheek softly, muttering her thanks and happiness. The two of them looked down at the caption below, not knowing where it had come from. Jack was about to read it aloud, before he was cut off by an unseen visitor.

"A king of the world which escaped time. "Kong" was a mighty beast, ended by the power of beauty."

Jack smiled warmly.

"I hope you like it. I'm no writer." said Carl Denham, that beard of his scruffier than ever.

"No one could have done better than that."

"Whatever you say, Ms. Darrow."

Jack and Ann turned to him.

"Hello, Carl."

He nodded, smirking at them and laughing inwardly at them being together.

"Goodbye, Jack."

And with that, he left them standing in a moment of bliss. He left them floating on clouds, with no despair to be found. Just like it should be. This would be the last meeting between Carl and the couple, leaving them to remember him kindly at last.


	2. The Shipmate

**Chapter 2 - Jimmy**

_"You don't want to be on this ship the rest of your life."_

_"Yes, I do."_

_"No, you don't, Jimmy. You got to be smart. Get yourself educated; give yourself some options. Take this seriously!"_

Jimmy sat with his head in his hands, sobbing silently into them as he remembered his "father's" words. Hayes' hat lay gently next to him on his cot. He never thought he'd see him go so soon, or ever, in his naive hopes. He despised that 25-foot gorilla from the moment he snatched up Hayes and threw him into the chasm's wall. The rest of the crew attacked in retaliation, but Jimmy fell to the log and screamed and pleaded in anguish. He felt weak for that.

The pain was real, and he knew that he would never forgive the giant murderer. He knew death was inevitable, but Hayes didn't ever deserve a fate like that. Not there; not then; not ever.

A knock, low and curious, came wrapping upon his cabin door. The handle twisted, the door creaked open, and an apparently saddened Captain Englehorn stood in the frame.

"Is this a bad time?" said Englehorn, worried for the young man.

"No, it's fine. Do you need me to do something?"

"No. I just...wanted to talk."

"Okay..."

"Jimmy...I'm sorry you had to lose the only father you've ever had, but I lost someone too that day. I lost a brother and a best friend. I know exactly how you feel. But, I also lost a first mate. None of the crew know how to navigate or be worthwhile right-hand men. I know you worked closely with Mr. Hayes; picked up his skills and remembered everything he taught you. I can tell."

He paused, letting it all sink in.

"What I'm getting at is...I'd like to ask if you would be my new first mate. It's hard work, but it's worth all the cuts and bruises. You would..."

Jimmy stopped him with a raised hand.

"Sir...if you had asked me that before that hellish island, I would've said yes. But I realized I can't. Mr. Hayes was right: I don't want to spend the rest of my life on this ship. He knew that long before I did. I'm leaving."

Englehorn stood and left the cabin, offended by Jimmy's response. Jimmy lifted his father's hat, dusted it off, and pulled it down onto his head. He could smell the sweat of hard labor and worry. He had just made the decision to leave, and he knew nothing about living away from the sea. He had no money, no family, no friends...

What would he do?

--

Two weeks later, and with little word from Englehorn, Jimmy was packed up and ready to go. He said his goodbyes, and the entire crew wished him luck. Descending from the steps propped up on the ship, a low call cemented his feet.

"Jimmy! Jimmy, wait."

It was the captain, closing in fast.

"Here." The captain handed Jimmy a handful of bills.

"Use it to get on your feet and you'll be fine."

Jimmy awkwardly hugged him, but to his surprise, he returned the affection and thanks. They let go quickly and shook hands, trying to regain respect after that odd few seconds. Englehorn laughed.

"Never thought I'd say this, but...goodbye, _James_."

"Goodbye, sir."

Jimmy finished his descent and suddenly felt the warm embrace of a new life waiting for him. He took in one last look at the vessel he spent so long on. A horn blew, the pistons rumbled, the smoke roared with blackness, and the captain waved as the Venture vanished into the horizon of the rising sun.

--

Jimmy knew he wouldn't find a place for the amount he had. Even still, he valiantly strolled on the sidewalks of the great city. He saw cars, stores, advertisements, and mainly, people. Not a truly happy face lay among them. The Depression had taken its toll and damaged many spirits. It was an unfortunate sight to see the huddled masses crowding the entrance to a nearby soup kitchen, children begging, and the poor shivering lifelessly in the cold.

"Suddenly.." he whispered to himself, "I don't feel so warm."

A flyer glided beneath his feet. He bent over and retrieved it, read it to himself.

**INTRODUCING:**

**JACK DRISCOLL'S**

**"Cry Havoc!"**

**A ROARING STAGE COMEDY**

**BEGINNING:**

**DECEMBER 5th**

It was a sign, or a blessing, perhaps. He didn't even consider the possibility of going to Jack. He must at least have enough money to keep himself afloat during this flood, so to speak. Not only that, but Jack was the only one who befriended him of those visiting the Venture.

--

That night, Jimmy arrived on Jack's doorstep, pounding in need to run from the frozen outside. Jack jerked open the door, about to protest the late intrusion.

"C'mon pal, it's 9 o'clock at...Jimmy?"

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, watching his temporary shipmate tip his hat.

"At your service, Mr. Driscoll."

There was a short pause.

"Jimmy...Get inside."

"Sure thing, Jack."

Jimmy hurried inside, ridding himself of the chill that clung tightly to his shivering body. He mentioned how he found Jack and congratulated him on his new play opening in a few weeks. The door shut behind him, Jack following to discover the mystery of Jimmy's arrival. Before they even made it to the living room, Jimmy impatiently spoke up.

"I left the ship."

"That's obvious, but..."

"Before...before Mr. Hayes died...on the ship after I stole your pen, which I'm sorry for, by the way.."

"It's fine, really."

"Well, he told me that I didn't want to be on that ship for the rest of my life. I was so angry that he had said that. You know? As if HE knew what I wanted. Only after he died, though...was when I realized I didn't want to waste my life on The Venture...just as he predicted; just as he knew with all his heart. Not only that, but he didn't want me to turn into some old bastard sailor with nothing to look forward to each day but the next tide. He may not have said that, but that's what I got from what he said."

Jimmy sighed deeply, shielding his eyes for a moment, then continuing.

"What I'm trying to say is I came to you, as a friend, knowing that you are the only person who can help me. I want to get away from my old life and begin anew. I want to make myself into something worth mentioning. There's no doubt I'll my family on The Venture; no questions asked. But...it's time for me to move on."

Jack sat and absorbed all of this, listening, solemn as Jimmy spoke. He never tried to speak up until he was sure Jimmy was finished.

"What is it you want to make of yourself, Jim? You want to be...an actor?"

"What? Like Ms. Darrow? Oh, no thanks. I've seen the trouble that gets you in."

His blue eyes glimmered as he smirked, though Jack's face turned to stone. The mention of Ann left him breathless and wanting of the wonderful smell of roses in his arms again. If only for another moment.

"I want to be a writer. Like you."

Jack brightened up a little.

"And as you can see, that too can lead to trouble."

He let a smile shine through his sudden moment of sorrow.

"Well, you're a playwright. That's not the type of writing I really had in mind."

"What were you thinking, pal?"

"Novels..you know? About The Venture. About all of our travels and adventures and our trip to Skull Island."

"I'm proud of you for having goals, Jimmy. But do you even know the first thing about wr---"

"That's why I need you. I need you to help me, Jack. Please? I could pay you..."

"No. No, Jimmy. Honestly, helping you with your aspirations is the least I can do. Free of charge. Really."

"Th-thank you, Jack!"

He thrust out his hand, Jack grabbed it happily, squeezing it tightly.

"You can stay here for a while if you need."

"You mean that?"

Jack nodded lightly.

"What are friends for?"

A little while later, the lights in the home dimmed as Jack set up his new guest in one of the empty rooms. Jimmy lay silent in bed, thinking about the days that will come, and the days that have already passed. This was right, and he knew so. He knew that he wanted this. If anything, he would make his father proud. He turned to look at the Firstmate's hat resting on the night stand, waiting to be worn again.


	3. The Assistant

**Chapter 3 - Preston**

_"Carl was right. There is some mystery left in this world, and we can all have a piece of it...for the price of an admission ticket."_

_"That's the thing you come to learn about Carl: His unfailing ability at destroying the things he loves."_

Jack had Carl pegged in only a few brief sentences. He narrowed down his ambitions, hopes, dreams, and happiness all into one single fault. Preston rode in the back of the taxi, awaiting to arrive at his destination. He was talking to the cab-driver, who, by the looks of it, didn't want to be pestered by such trivial stories.

"...And Carl actually told me, true story, told me to jump into the cave to grab the camera. The man's nuts, honestly. I don't really know why I ever put up with him for so long. He...treated me like dirt, ordered me around as if I was his servant, pushed my self-confidence so far down that it's buried even deeper than his cold heart. Yet, through it all, there were moments where he and I just were. Plain and simple, he and I were at balance and we got along and laughed...and I miss those times. I wish those could have been the times that lasted longer than the others...But I don't..."

The cabbie stopped the car suddenly and turned to face Preston.

"Look, buddy, I really don't give a crap about ANYTHING you're saying. Do you understand? I'm a cab-driver. I get paid only a few coins an hour. That is not nearly enough to have me sitting here listening to your nonsense. So shut up, sir, and enjoy the ride. It's only a few blocks from here."

Preston became quiet quickly. The cabbie turned away and then immediately turned back.

"Oh, and another thing...grow a set. Maybe you'll actually get somewhere if you didn't let that guy walk all over you. Stand up for yourself. Don't be a rug. Wipe the dirt off and stop laying down and taking it."

The words of the man in front of him were empowering, to say the least. He was surprised, but only pleasantly. He sat quietly the rest of the way. The cabbie eventually stopped and let Preston out, not speaking another word, only holding his hand out for the toll of the ride. As soon as the money was safely within the walls of the taxi, he sped off. Preston looked up at the apartment in front of him, Carl Denham standing in the doorway. His beard was large and bushy. As Preston came closer, he saw into Carl's eyes and could say they were different somehow. They didn't have the same menace and ill-intent as they did for as long as he knew him. He held out his hand, to which Preston timidly shook it.

"Hey there, pal. It's cold out here, huh? Come on in. We have some things to talk about."

"Sure thing, Carl."

Carl's home was disheveled, newspapers lying about and trays and plates of food lazily placed in odd places. The only piece of his humble abode that seemed to lack the clutter and chaos was the living room. The hearth raged with warm embers and Carl teased them absent-mindedly with fire poker. He sat in his favorite recliner, while Preston sat on the couch, bag in his lap, all bunched together awkwardly, as though the two had never met. Carl continued to stare into the flames as if it would eventually give him the right words to say. Preston just concentrated on Carl as he was bathed in an orange hue. Aside from the almost dim light the flames gave off, the room was shrouded in darkness. The scruffy bearded man had shut-out all of the windows.

After a few moments of complete silence, Carl spoke, his eyes never breaking from the flames.

"Maybe you're wondering why I brought you here, but you're not a dumb kid. No, you're not even a kid. You suspect that I called you here to ask forgiveness. You think I'll pay you for all the pain and suffering I've caused you over the years, physically and mentally. You most likely even believe that I'm going to tell you that I respect you as a person for all that you stood while you were my assistant, and that any man who takes so much and at the end of the day still cares so much about me...why, I should say he's more than a friend or an assistant. More like a brother..."

"Carl, you really don't..."

"Preston, please. Let me finish."

Preston clammed up as he had been so prone to do at moments like this.

"I owe you more than you'll ever know. You stood by my side when no one else really would, aside from Herb, of course. I treated you like someone who couldn't even be bothered with, regardless of how much good you had done in my life. I have always, always taken you for granted. I look back at how I was and I wish I could say I regret it. I do, for your sake, but not for this moment in time. If I hadn't been that way, this moment would never have come. Losing everything does something to you, buddy. I know that sounds selfish..."

He turned towards Preston, his eyes glazed over and shimmered in the firelight.

"I wish there was something I could say, but I know there isn't. Regardless, I need to say this, and not for me...but for you. You deserve to know."

"Know what?"

A short pause filled the conversation, and Carl could feel himself falter.

"You're my best friend, and I never even realized it until I threw you away. When I saw you at the premiere that night, I could see the bitterness in your eyes. And though you act like you did when we were still partners, I can still see that bitterness. You really didn't even have to say a word. I knew everything you wanted to say to me. I brushed it off because money was the only thing I was concerned about. Fame. Fortune. You know, what I always talked about; the only thing I talked about. It wasn't worth it. Nothing is worth losing someone as genuine as you were and still are."

Preston was stricken with surprise. He never expected any of this from Carl...ever.

"...I'm sorry."

Carl stood up and Preston did the same without being asked. Preston went for a handshake, but Carl pulled him into a light a hug; a hug brothers would share. Preston could feel his whole body feel the tension deep rooted in him disappear. He never said it was okay. He never forgave what Carl had done, but instead, accepted this offer to start over. Carl pulled back, eyes still glazed over, and extended his hand. Preston took it and grasped it firmly, with more confidence.

"I'm sorry I underestimated you, pal."

A smile crept over Preston's face as he laughed. Carl laughed, loud and from deep within himself. He coughed hard a few times, seeing as how it had been quite a while since he had a laugh. Carl reached into his pocket.

"Before I forget..."

He pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to his former assistant.

"A check?" Preston said, in awe of the gesture. "I've never known you to give money for free."

"Trust me. It's not for free."

"I can't accept this. You need..."

"I need you to take it. Really. It's yours."

Preston nodded. The two spoke with each other for a few hours, laughing and reminiscing on old times. Preston felt comfortable around Carl for the first time since he had known him. Soon after, Preston departed and felt a weight lifted from him as he remembered all that had happened in this short visit. He thought to himself, "Carl was right, there is some mystery left in this world."


End file.
